


The Unimaginable

by moonbeambucky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mom!Reader, Sad Ending, dad!Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 22:55:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11701578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonbeambucky/pseuds/moonbeambucky
Summary: As Bucky's wife and mother of his child you always worried for him when he was on a mission. This last mission will change your life forever.





	The Unimaginable

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to “It’s Quiet Uptown” from Hamilton and this horribly sad idea came into my head.

The morning sun beamed into the windows through the white blinds. A pale seafoam covered the walls of your bedroom, the light color accentuating the bright streams that met your eyes. You rolled over, snuggling closer to Bucky, your head resting where his scarred flesh and metal appendage were fused together. You rest your hand on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his steady breaths as he sleeps. Looking up towards him you can’t help but to smile, his lips were not completely closed allowing tiny snores to escape from his mouth. You placed a kiss to his chest and he stirred, moving his hand up to cover yours. His fingers circled the vintage wedding band on your own hand, bringing a smile to his gorgeous face as he remembers your wedding as if it were yesterday.

It was the happiest day of his long and heartbreaking life, at least second to the day he met you. You were walking on the streets of New York, headphones in your ears as you looked down at your phone skipping to the next song on your playlist, unaware of the drunk driver recklessly headed your way. Bucky had been walking those same streets, trying to take in just how much Manhattan has changed since the last time he was there before the war. Bucky had planned a double date bringing along a scrawny Steve Rogers with him, to take some girls to see “The Wizard of Oz”. Both ladies were frightened by the flying monkeys, seeking comfort in Bucky’s arms, much to the dismay of Steve although it was something he was more than used to.

Bucky’s ears pricked up at the sound of the car jumping the curb and the screams of pedestrians jumping out of the way. Your back was turned away from the impending doom and Bucky sprinted towards you. You looked up to see his large figure headed towards you, arms stretched out. You froze in fear at the stranger, unable to do anything as he shoved you into the doorway of a building. You screamed, your back was aflame with pain as it hit the gothic carvings of the metal door, but as the car zoomed by taking out the scaffolding on the sidewalk you understood the situation.

Your heart was racing, not only for the scene that played out before you but at the stranger. His dark baseball cap cast a shadow over his face but his steel blue eyes managed to stand out. His sharp jaw line was lightly dusted with scruff, his pink lips were pulled to the side. With a voice much softer than you anticipated he apologized, his eyes downcast as if he had done something wrong. The man who saved your life was apologizing for slightly hurting you.

On the surface this stranger was incredibly handsome but that’s not what intrigued you. You wondered about what caused all the pain you could see he held within his storm-ridden eyes. The desire to know more about him fueled your next move, insisting on buying him coffee as a show of gratitude; a gesture so unbalanced by comparison to his actions but he accepted it all the same. You sat in the corner of a small cafe and got to know each other. Looking back you realized just how much it meant to him, to talk with someone who clearly didn’t recognize who he was and therefore held no judgments against him. That was the start of your friendship, which turned into a relationship, and now 7 years later you were lazily waking up in your small home, secluded upstate near the Avengers compound.

Your bedroom door flew open and the pitter patter of excited feet echoed off the hardwood floors. “Mommy! Daddy!” a little voice squeaked. You felt the white comforter that covered you both being tugged as your son desperately climbed up onto the bed. Once he did he stood up and began jumping up and down.

Bucky feigned a stern voice, “Michael what did I tell you about jumping on the bed?” Your son’s small face froze with his mouth hanging open, landing on his knees and giggling.  
Bucky sat up, cracking a smile, “If you jump on the bed you get tickled!” His fingers went right to Michael’s armpits and he started wriggling with fits of laughter.  
“Mom-my… help…me,” he said in between laughs.

You raised your eyebrows up at Bucky and he stopped. Michael crawled towards you, wrapping his small arms around you for a hug. You whispered in his ear, “Let’s get Daddy!” His face scrunched up in delight as you both turned around to face Bucky. Michael jumped on him, scattering his little fingers all over Bucky’s chest to tickle him. You knew better and went straight to the spot behind his knees and he howled with laughter.

When you thought Bucky had enough you stopped, allowing him to catch his breath. You picked up Michael and carried him to his room. “Is it time for my party?” he excitedly asked, bouncing on the edge of his bed as you attempted to take off his dinosaur pajamas.  
“Not yet sweetie but soon, I promise!”

Your little boy was turning four years old today and you marveled at how fast the time went. It seems like just yesterday you were bringing him home from the hospital. Bucky was overcome with joy when he found out you were expecting. He was nervous in anticipation of fatherhood and the whole team knew it, especially Clint who found himself harassed by Bucky on a daily basis with an endless list of questions. Once Michael was born Bucky’s anxiety didn’t go away, but you had each other for support.

Michael ran to the kitchen, the smell of Bucky’s breakfast drifted throughout the house. You put away a few toys that were scattered on the floor and then found yourself staring at a photo hanging on the wall. You were at the compound bringing a 4 month old Michael to visit. He was propped up on your lap and Bucky threw his arm around you. Wanda couldn’t help but to capture the moment. She got Michael’s attention by raising her hand up, a red mist of energy surrounding it. It was the perfect shot with Michael’s toothless smile beaming through. It also showed off his eyes, they were blue like his father except for a brown wedge on his left iris.

You finished decorating the backyard, Bucky helped hanging streamers and blowing up balloons. The team was coming over, Clint was bringing his children and Scott was bringing Cassie. The weather was a perfect mixture of sun with a nice breeze. Everyone had a great time, the kids played games, giving the adults time to relax a little, except for Vision whose purple complexion fascinated the children and thus he was always surrounded by them.

Michael was exhausted from the day, which surprised you, considering all of the cake he managed to sneak and eat. You tucked him into bed, taking turns kissing him goodnight. “I love you Daddy and Mommy,” he barely managed to get out before he drifted to sleep. “We love you Mikey,” Bucky said, caressing his forehead, brushing his dark brown hair.

You both left the room to finish cleaning up from the party. Bucky sealed a garbage bag filled with crumpled wrapping paper, watching you as you rinsed dishes before filling up the dishwasher. You caught him staring at you and called him out on it.

“What?” you smiled at him.  
“Nothing,” he said smiling back. He stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzled his face into your neck kissing you. “I love you so much.”  
“I love you too Bucky.” You turned around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck.  
“I can’t believe we have a four year old.”  
“I know it seems like we were just changing diapers.”

Bucky tilted his head to the side, a coy smile on his face, “You know I wouldn’t mind that again. Maybe we could try for a little princess?”

You chuckled at his sentence but inside your heart fluttered. You had wanted to talk to him about having a second child. Caressing the nape of his neck, you pulled him down towards you for a sensual kiss, a wordless response to his proposal.

Bucky lifted you up, your legs wrapping around him, “I think we should start right now,” he said, kissing you as he made his way back to your bed to make love to you.

* * *

 

“Come say goodbye to Daddy,” you yelled for Michael. You hated these days, Bucky was headed out for a mission. They had Intel on Hydra, it was something big requiring all of the Avengers. Bucky knelt down wrapping his arms around Michael for a tight hug, kissing him goodbye and telling him how much he loves him.

Michael called Bucky a superhero, he knew his Dad stopped bad guys but he didn’t understand what that really meant, but you did. He didn’t know the dread you felt in the pit of your stomach every time Bucky had to leave for the dangers he was voluntarily walking into. He didn’t worry about Bucky getting injured or worse.

Michael went back to playing with his toys giving you time to say goodbye. You held him tight, secretly hoping your embrace would make him change his mind about leaving but you knew he wouldn’t. This was Bucky, from the young man who bravely served his country, to the stranger who risked his life for another on the street. It was always within him to do good and you change that.

You take his metal hand into yours, turning it over onto his palm. Your fingers trace the base of his left finger, your name etched into the metal, Bucky’s insistence since a traditional ring would not work. Looking up with worried eyes you tell Bucky how much you love him. He kisses tenderly you, running his hands up your sides before pulling you closer to him. You both sigh into your kiss as your lips mold perfectly together.

“I love you both,” he said before leaving.

A few days later you were in the backyard with Michael. He was helping you pick vegetables in the garden he helped sow. You went back in the house, Michael helped carry the basket of fresh picked tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots and peppers. You placed it on the counter and noticed the clock was flashing the wrong time on your stove. There must have been a power outage but you never worried about that. Apart from installing your security system, Tony gave you a backup generator powered by some technology of his you could never hope to understand, you just knew you wouldn’t have to worry about any food spoiling.

“Michael come help make dinner,” you said waiting for a response. “Michael,” you said louder. Nothing. Usually when he didn’t respond it was because he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to. You wondered what sort of trouble he was getting into.

You went to find him, you passed the living room and your eyes widened in horror. Four menacing figures stood in your hallway, one of them held Michael, whose mouth had been duct taped over. Your mind was racing, knowing you couldn’t get to the guns in your bedroom you picked up the nearest item, a table lamp and charged the man closest to you. You swung the base of the lamp over your head to hit him but he put his arms up to block. The other men grabbed you, you kicked and screamed, screaming for your son, screaming to be let go. Michael was crying, his eyes stricken with fear and it filled you with the determination to free him. You elbowed the man behind you and bit down on the arm that held you back. You ran towards Michael but you never made it. You had been hit in the head from behind, the force of the blow knocking you out. You lay unconscious, bleeding on the floor while your son was taken far away.

Waking up a few hours later you groan, groggily figuring out your surroundings before everything came back to you. You frantically searched the house if by some miracle Michael was there. You scrambled to find your cell phone to call Bucky but he didn’t answer so you called everyone. Sam charismatically answered the phone putting you on speaker but hearing your state made his demeanor drop. He handed the phone to Bucky and you told him what happened in between screams and sobs. He sat there dumbfounded, unable to comprehend your cries, “Michael’s gone. They took him. They took him!” The team was stunned into silence, no one knowing what to say. “Get us back NOW!” Bucky screamed.

All of the color left his face, he clenched his jaw tight, grinding his teeth but his eyes were soft and heartbroken. Steve offered comfort but Bucky shoved him off, instead pacing the length of the jet. Everyone was on edge incase he justifiably lost it.

The team had been on their way back anyway, the mission was a bust. Steve deduced it was ploy by Hydra to get them far enough away from you. Tony had FRIDAY check the power grid history for your area, discovering a brief disruption, long enough to get the assailants into the house before the system went back online.

Within the hour they landed in a field near your house. Bucky ran inside to find you on the floor, your back against the wall in the hallway, a few feet from where you last saw Michael. He pulled you into his chest, and you wailed and Bucky rubbed the back of your head to comfort you, his fingers were sticky with blood. “We’ll find him Y/N. We’ll get him back,” he insisted.

He pulled you to your feet, insisting Bruce check your injury. Bucky went outside and Steve followed him a few paces behind. Bucky stood in the yard, looking at the playset he assembled for Michael, remembering the times when he pushed him the swings and went down the slide in Bucky’s lap. His metal fist clenched, mechanics whirring as Bucky punched the trunk of Sycamore tree. He grunted with each punch, raggedly breaking off pieces of the bark. He stopped, hands holding himself up as he leaned on the tree. As Steve approached he heard Bucky’s heavy breathing, turning he saw the wet streaks that ran down Bucky’s cheeks. “I can’t lose him,” he sobbed. Steve grabbed him, pulling him in for a tight hug.

You were seated on the couch, blankly staring at the wall, tears streaming down your face. The team offered their sympathies, hugging you as they left. They went back to the compound, to work on figuring out where Hydra took Michael. Bucky came back in and sat next to you, you looked at his red nose and bloodshot eyes and it broke you again. You cried, this time lamenting this was your fault. Bucky assured you that it wasn’t, and you both cried in each other’s arms.

You passed out from pure exhaustion, Bucky carried you into bed. He laid down next to you but didn’t sleep. He spent the night staring at the ceiling, his mind racing trying to remember every Hydra base he could, wondering if he knew the people who took his son, wishing they had taken him instead. You woke up hysterical, crying out again for Michael. The deep pulls of pain from within caused you to be sick, you heaved into the toilet, emptying all of your stomach contents until there was just bile, leaving a stinging path in your throat.

The next days were a blur. The team went out to look for him but to no avail. Your body produced what seemed like an endless supply of tears. You barely slept and had no drive to do anything. Bucky took care of you, making sure you ate even if it was minimal. He forced you into a shower, joining you since he feared you were too weak to do it on your own. The water trickled down his back as he gently shampooed your hair, finally cleaning the blood caked strands. You turned around to face him, wrapping your arms around his bare body, letting the water just wash over your both. He changed you into clean clothes and combed through your knotted hair.

You stood up and placed a chaste kiss on his lips, the first since before he left. He cracked a bittersweet smile. Bucky had an enormous amount of guilt since Michael’s abduction, scolding himself everyday for not being able to protect him. It made him feel he was no longer worth of your love, so this kiss however small had a big impact.

New information came in while the team was away and it was a decent lead. Bucky gave the information to the group but didn’t want to waste any time for them to get back. He geared up was headed out on his own, determined to find his son. He kissed the top of your forehead before leaving. “I love you Y/N. I’m gonna bring him home.”

The ringing of your doorbell stirred you from the nap you didn’t know you had taken. You set aside Michael’s stuffed elephant you had been holding and answered the door. It was Steve, still in his gear, his eyebrows were knit tightly.

“W-what happened?” you asked, your voice quivering with each syllable.  
“It was too late when we got there. Everyone was gone, Bucky,” he took a deep breath, “he wasn’t there.”  
“What do you mean?” You felt your heart pounding, your breaths becoming shallow.  
“We found his phone but there’s no sign of him. All these missions, they must have known, release information while we’re away to get Bucky. Y/N I…”  
“Stop!”

That’s all you can say before you slide to the floor, your legs giving out under the realization of the unimaginable. Michael, your only son was gone. Bucky, the love of your life was gone. Your heart had shattered, broken in an infinite amount of pieces that could never be repaired. You stayed at the compound for the next month before you decided to return home.

Home, what did that mean anymore? This wasn’t home. Home was the sound of laughter filling the halls. Home was Michael turning his nose up to broccoli and Bucky always managing to get him to eat it. Home was Michael’s handmade crafts and drawings, stick figures of the three of you with big smiles under a crayon rainbow. Home was the boys who were stolen from your life. This wasn’t home but you couldn’t leave it all the same.

This house had memories in every corner, like Michael crying when he got a scrape and Bucky putting a band-aid on him or Bucky burning the Thanksgiving turkey. This house had hope, the hope that they would come back. You grabbed one of Bucky’s shirts and went to Michael’s room. You sat there in the deafening silence, hoping.

You were lucky though, lucky that you didn’t know the truth. Hydra captured Bucky and drugged him with a substance that aided in persuasion and brainwashing. He was the Soldier again, cold, stoic and hardened. Lucky you didn’t know that they brought Bucky in to see Michael. He was in a small cell with a hard cot, it was dark and damp. When Bucky entered Michael ran to him crying “Daddy! Daddy you’re here!” but the Soldier shoved him away. “Daddy it’s me, it’s Mikey,” his little voice cried but the Soldier ignored him. Michael cried for days, unable to understand why his father was being so mean.

Five years went by and you were still holding out hope that Michael or Bucky would come home, but not both. You wanted both of them, you would take both of them you just didn’t believe it was possible. You didn’t touch your garden. The grass wasn’t mowed unless Steve came by to do it. Your grief took a toll on you, wrinkles formed on your forehead from the strain of crying, the bags under your eyes had settled in, stress turned more and more strands of your hair grey each day. Yet you were still lucky, you didn’t know that Hydra had been training Michael since they captured him, that they fed him lies, telling him you never loved him.

In another five years you accepted their deaths. You placed your last mother’s day gift from Michael, a cement stone with his handprint and “I love you Mommy” inscription beneath the Sycamore tree Bucky had attacked. You were lucky though, you didn’t know that when Michael hit puberty Hydra injected him with a variety of serums. His training had continued, now being taught how to kill by the Soldier. Years of brainwashing convinced Michael that Bucky was not his father.

Fifteen years had gone by and your past seemed like a distant memory. You lived a quiet life now. You were often found strolling near woods, just walking slowly for miles at a time. Steve still visited on occasion. The rest of the team had stopped coming by but you understood. There wasn’t anything they could say to you and you had grown tired of seeing the pity in their eyes.

One day you were reading in the living room, your legs spread across the couch as your mind transported you into a new reality. The sound of glass shattering brought you back. You put the book down to investigate and for the first time in over a decade you felt an emotion, fear.

There was a stranger in your house, tall and broad with long brown hair wearing all black down to the combat boots. You were surprised to feel scared. There were so many days you wished you died of a broken heart, or that Hydra took you instead of them, or worse, wishing you never met Bucky and that the drunk driver had just hit you. This is the first time you’ve felt alive in a way and you weren’t going down without a fight. The man ran towards you but you moved out of the way towards the kitchen. You grabbed a large knife and lunged it at him when he came near you. He was faster than you and much stronger, easily knocking the knife away.

You ran but he grabbed your leg forcing you to the ground. He flipped you onto your back and grabbed you by the neck. You clawed at his fingers trying to pry them off you. His right hand reached back and he pulled out a handgun. He aimed it at your forehead and you closed your eyes, resolving that at least you would be with Michael and Bucky again. You opened your eyes once more to look at your attacker, he cocked the gun and your eyes widened in horrifying shock, recognizing the brown wedge in the blue eye of your attacker. Your attacker did not falter in pulling the trigger, right after your last words.

“Michael?”


End file.
